Music Notes
by The Cake Genius
Summary: Random, unorganized instances of Tom and Indigo, separate notes that together make a melody of stardust and kisses. SLASH, not really lemon, but not quite lime, either, so the rating is just to be safe. You have been WARNED.


**Disclaimer: The Cassons and Co. sadly are not mine. If they were, it would be even slashier.**

**Warning: SLASH and SMEXINESS, if you didn't notice already. No flames, please, but I absolutely love good reviews and constructive criticism.**

**A/N: I'm supposed to be writing a Death Note fic right now, but it's coming along so slowly. I'll do it soon! This just... came out somehow... and ffnet wouldn't let me separate the pieces with stars. :(This pairing needs a much bigger fandom! By the way, for anyone who likes J-Pop, have you noticed that the Vocaloid Kaito looks like Indigo? And he has indigo hair. O_O It blew my mind, man. XD **

**On with the lime!**

* * *

Indigo reached up from where he lay, spreading his fingers against the backdrop of the velvet, starlit sky. Tom took it and kissed each fingertip. "I'm right here."

* * *

"Rose won't be too happy."

"No, I suppose not."

* * *

Tom's hands were those of a guitarist, rough and ragged, but gentle and quick on Indigo's skin.

* * *

He liked Indy like this: flushed, his eyes filled with stardust. His hair would darken with sweat, spread out on their pillow, contrasting with his pale skin almost femininely. The small, mewling sounds he made were so delicate and beautiful, Tom could climax just by listening.

* * *

Tom liked to come to England when least expected. He'd sometimes not contact any of the Cassons for weeks, just to make a big entrance, and he'd fly over and slam open their door grinning (Eve never locked it). Rose would scream and tackle-hug him, and he'd swing her around, laughing, "Hey there, Permanent Rose!" and smile at Indigo, whose expression was smallest, but with eyes the most filled with love.

* * *

When Tom wasn't there, Indigo would disappear to high places for hours, gazing at the sky and wishing on airplanes.

* * *

When Indigo wasn't there, Tom told his other friends epics of the amazing adventures he'd had with a family of paint colors. "We fought the bigest dragon," he related with a far-off look, "and flew to the highest star."

* * *

"Indigo isn't in the rainbow," someone told him.

"Nope," replied Tom, "but there's a rainbow in Indigo."

* * *

Tom liked to kiss his skin- neck, lavicle, wrists, hips, between shoulderblades- licking the pale, soft, almost edible boy, biting lightly here and there and watching his lover squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth so as to not cry out in pleasure.

* * *

Tom wasn't introverted; he liked being loud. But he was gentle, never hurting his precious Indy.

* * *

"It's only sky."

"Yes, but that's a long way from me to you."

* * *

They made up for lost time with whispered words, aching loneliness with tender kisses, hurried.

* * *

"I'm bored."

"Are you really?"

"Yes. It's awful."

"What do you want to do, then?"

"..."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Point taken."

* * *

"Tom's a perv," Saffy commented once.

_If only you knew._

* * *

David observed Indigo. He was much more observant than people thought. He knew the pattern: every time Tom left, Indigo would be very silent for a couple of hours, then listen to music endlessly for a few days. Then he would seem happy again, but with a spark that slowly, almost imperceptibly slowly, dwindled. It would take months, but there would sometimes be a stage when he'd only speak a few words a day, even to a furiously anxious and consternated Rose.

Then he'd see Tom again, and his joy would once more silently fill the room like warm, golden sunlight.

* * *

They had whole playlists of songs that reminded them of each other. Tom's had lots of Bob Dylan.

"Why are you always bouncing balls, Tom?"

"I figure someone will finally notice the innuendo."

"They _have_ all been rather slow on the uptake, haven't they?"

* * *

In-between stars was dark matter.

* * *

To his surprise, Indio said it first.

"I love you!" Almost violent, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I love you..."

Tom's long silence was taken the wrong way, and the other boy sighed and almost turned away before Tom came to his senses, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into a sweet kiss.

* * *

Indigo tasted of the night sky. Tom tasted of home.

* * *

They'd have to wait until everyone else was gone, and then Tom would shove him against the wall, all his pent-up tension conveyed in his tongue plunging into Indigo's mouth. They'd only pull apart long enough to take gulps of sweet air.

"I want you," Tom breathed hotly against is ear.

"I need you," Indigo whispered back.

* * *

"How can I find you when the stars are all gone?"

"The sun's just one big star. Look up anyway."

"What if it's raining?"

Indigo rolled on top of him and put his hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat. "In here."

* * *

They held hands whenever they thought no one was looking.

But everyone really knew ayway.

* * *

The sounds they made together were better than any music.

* * *

They could both watch the other play guitar forever, trying to memorize movements, expressions, habits, and archive them to pull out and remember on a rainy day. But when they played together, the harmonies they made were so beautiful, everyone would have to stop and listen, swearing they could hear a fallen angel.

* * *

Rose had to train herself to accept it. It took loads of impatience until she realized that she'd never seen Indy so happy in all their time as siblings. So she moved on and one day found a fiery, redheaded boy who played the piano.

* * *

Tom's parents asked him if he had a girlfriend, if that was why he spent so much time on his email and phone.

"No," he said. It wasn't exactly a lie.

* * *

Indigo was _pretty. _Tom supposed that the word wasn't meant to be used on boys, but that was the only way to describe it. Indigo was still terribly skinny beneath his baggy clothes, with the softest, darkest hair and the most delicate white skin. He sometimes seemed as fragile as a butterfly's wing, but then Tom would see the immeausurable strength and endless patient wisdom in his eyes, and he'd fall in love all over again.

* * *

Every instance was a single music note. When put together, the loveliest song was played.


End file.
